the hourglass

i ponder the people

 in the afternoon frenzy,

they dash down the sidewalk-

 bumping into each other,

too much in a hurry

 to murmur polite pardons. 

sensing the grains of the hourglass,

 they quicken their pace,

while the rush of their blood

 hastens as deadlines grow closer.

but what will they feel

 when the realization strikes

that these grains, 

that are finite and precious,

     are few?

what of the deadlines,

 so faithfully kept,

 when there will be

  no more giddy children to delight in,

  no more passionate embraces,

  no more spring picnics to share with a friend,

  no more sunday afternoons graced by

   wind chimes and hummingbirds?

what of these deadlines then?

the sand flows

 unheeded by regrets ...

what more is a lifetime

 than a minute too short?

         .... kymberlie birkenkamp

ticklish lies...

whether or not we heed our intuition, we know when we are being fooled. 

it is late, but upon request... here is one more from the archives. 

endearment...

pillow talk slides off satin sheets

 but the heavy words you whispered

 are treasured amulets of love

 lain around my neck

 with delicate kisses, that 

 hover near my heart 

 still.

the hue of you

until the late 90's, i wrote a lot of poetry. i was lucky enough to have several pieces published, and even had the opportunity to read for the college--something that i found terrifying! it took a lot more work to get your work out there back just before the birth of the internet, even though it was easier than the generation before. :)

i'm not exactly sure when i stopped writing poetry, but i switched to writing papers, feature articles and blogging.

recently, i met someone who writes and i revisited my own work. it's been a long time and i have stacks and stacks of hand written notes and old matrix printer scraps mixed in a file with magazine clippings. i am reminded of an entire lifetime that i'd quietly filed away.

here is a little something i found....

the hue of you

a thousand colors in my world
and i am struck by the blue of you,
the one unattainable hue,
just beyond my reach.
lighter than midday skies,
deeper than the seas,
richer than the cornflower,
violent as a thunder cloud.
you swiftly root
before the sunrise,
in a moment
of the magic hour,
then gone as the golden globe
stretches to caress my hair.
i am left wanting,
as i softly drift into
a fresh memory of you.